


Tigerlily

by Saki_Lyn



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, F/M, Flowers, Gen, History, Legends, Originally Posted Elsewhere, Originally Posted on deviantART, POV Second Person, Posted Elsewhere, Reader-Insert, Romantic Friendship, Slice of Life, museum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-04 13:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4140006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saki_Lyn/pseuds/Saki_Lyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been twelve hundred years since the horrific events of Attack on Titan, and though humanity has emerged victorious, no one knows what became of the two most famous heroes: Eren Jaeger and Levi Ackerman. One day, a small town museum receives two marble statues, excavated from a site near where the three walls once stood. A museum employee finds the statues most unusual…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bandit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small town museum assistant receives a pair of unanticipated guests. Expect bouts of pepper spray, instant ramen, a lack of ski masks, and a life-changing turn of events.

His eyes are wide and fearless. Intangible wind dances through his hair and cape. His left hand is extended away from him, as if holding back the entire world. His other hand is held up to his mouth, snarling teeth sunken into the fleshy part of his thumb. Just like the legends say.

Unfortunately, the rest of his story is marred by the imperfection of the marble likeness. This statue of the great hero is good, stunning even, but it still doesn’t quite have him down. All the legends say Eren Jaeger was much angrier in person.

You sigh and smile to yourself. You have spent your entire life wondering what it would be like to meet him, even talk to him, ever since your mother first rocked you to sleep with stories of how humanity overcame the Dark Times. These stories contain many heroes, each one of them uncommonly courageous, but you had always been particularly drawn to the green-eyed titan boy, the one they used to call “Humanity’s Hope.”

“Hey ___. Would it kill you to lend me a hand over here? An old coot like me can only lift so much before his back gives out.”

“Coming, Papsi,” you call, scurrying over to the other side of the storeroom. 

“That’s it. There we go,” Papsi grunts as the two of you struggle to tip the statue out of its crate and into an upright position. It wobbles precariously as you let go.

“Whoa there, careful!” Papsi warns, steadying the sculpture. “These fellas just came in from an expedition site in Alemanni itself. They’ve had a long journey, and it’d be a crying shame if they shattered now.”

“You don’t have to tell me how important they are,” you retort. You gaze imploringly at the second sculpture. Once again, the craftsmanship takes your breath away. The sculptor has rendered their subject incredibly lifelike. You can almost feel the legendary withering glare of Colonel Levi Ackerman as he grips his twin blades above his head, ready to bring them snickering through your own. He holds one of the blades backhand, just like the old stories say.

“Oh, I almost forgot. You have a self-proclaimed Ph. D. in all things Dark Times,” Papsi chuckles.

“Hey, at least I have a hobby, unlike a certain old man who spends his time shuffling around doing odd jobs at a dusty, forgotten museum.”

“Ouch. I won’t pretend like that didn’t hurt. But just remember: you happen to work at that same dusty, forgotten museum,” Papsi says, winking at you good-naturedly. He may like to tease, but beneath all the prickles he’s a regular jolly old St. Nick. Why else would he insist everyone call him “Papsi?”

“Well, that’s all that I’m needed for,” Papsi says, heading toward the storeroom’s open garage door. “I’ll be back tomorrow when the city curator’s here to help with all the cleaning and cataloging. In the meantime, have fun with your new boyfriends.”

“They’re sculptures, Papsi,” you deadpan, trying in vain to conceal your blush.

“Ah, but to a history bobble head like you, is there really a difference?” he remarks.

Before you can snap back a witty barb, he has already hopped into the red rusted out pickup truck waiting just beyond the storeroom’s loading bay. The engine starts with a cough and a sputter, and soon Papsi is on his way back to the little shack he calls a house.

You shake your head in disbelief as you close the garage door. In the absence of the setting sunlight, you flip on the storeroom’s fluorescent overhead lights. 

“Now then,” you address your marbled guests. “The curator from the city museum won’t get here until tomorrow, so until then you’re all mine.”

You know it’s probably not good for you mental health to talk to lifeless museum relics, but it’s a habit you’ve nurtured ever since you started volunteering at the Northeast Aquitaine Museum of the Dark Times (more commonly referred to, at least by you, as the NAMDA), and it’s no use trying to break it now. And Papsi was at least partially right. You are a history bobble head, and you want to hear every tale these two marbled gentlemen have to tell before the big stuffy city curator comes to whisk them away.

Papsi was right about something else, too: you are going to have fun. Loads of it.

\---

You work late into the night, examining and recording every scuff and scratch on the two sculptures. Some of them were probably caused by the carelessness of the excavators. Most of those bums don’t take their job terribly seriously and have no respect for the pricelessness of the history they dig up. In fact, the sad truth is there are few people left in the world who truly appreciate the legends of the Dark Times, and the hard lessons they taught humanity. 

As you work, you continue to marvel at the intricacy of the detail on these two works of tribute. And most mysterious of all, even after thoroughly examining every square centimeter, you cannot find even a trace of a signature or gild mark. This is highly unusual. After the Dark Times, sculptures and other artistic tributes to the Fallen Heroes became quite the trend in Ueropa. But in all your years working as an assistant at this museum you had never once come across a tribute piece without a name attached to it. Artists of that time period usually liked to ensure the world was well aware of their paying respects to the martyrs, especially since the pieces were often overwhelmingly popular at the market. 

But not this particular sculptor, whoever he or she was. Despite producing such remarkable likenesses of the two most famous Dark Times heroes, this sculptor had chosen to remain nameless and unknown. You feel a deep sense of respect for them, and decide you won’t try to pry into the matter any further, despite having vast archival resources at your disposal. But there is no guarantee the city curator will feel the same. She is known to be more concerned with the financial aspect of things.

You sigh as your stomach growls embarrassingly loud in the stillness. You had been so hard at work these past few hours you had forgotten to eat supper.

“Sorry, guys. But I’ve gotta take a quick break,” you say to the statues, clapping Eren on the shoulder as you rise from kneeling. “Not all of us are made of stone.”

You set your notebook on a nearby writing desk. Notebooks had been rendered all but obsolete several decades ago, but you still insist on using them for your projects. You crave the feel of pen on paper more than stylus on computer screen. The sensation has more soul.

You walk to the break room, where packets of instant ramen await. You flip off the storeroom’s lights and close the door as you go, casting the sculptures into soupy darkness. 

\---

As you munch on your instant ramen – a little too doughy for your taste, but far better than the dehydrated sashimi you tried last week – your mind wanders back to the legend of the two heroes. Eren Jaeger and Levi Ackerman were a force to be reckoned with. If the records hold true, they each slew hundreds of titans, the gigantic humanoid beasts who once hunted and consumed humanity for sport. Eren and Levi were invaluable assets in mankind’s struggle for survival, and without them, humans may well have become a mere legend themselves. But one thing bothers you, and it has bothered you ever since you first heard these stories from your mother’s lips: where had they gone? Both Eren and Levi had disappeared under mysterious circumstances, never to be heard from again. No one even knows precisely when or how it happened, only that their stories end shortly before humanity finally rids itself of the last titans and emerges victorious from the Dark Times.

It was once considered one of history’s greatest mysteries, but these days few people even bat an eyelash at the mention of the great legends’ names. 

You shiver. Your ramen has grown cold, and you are beginning to remember just how spooky and silent the museum becomes after hours. Well, truthfully speaking, the NAMDA is almost always spooky and silent, since it receives so few visitors, but at night that heavy lonesomeness becomes much more pronounced. 

*CRASH*

Your ramen bowl clatters to the floor, splooshing ramen juices helter-skelter. Great. Whatever just made that noise owes you a new dinner. You sigh and whip out a clump of paper napkins. As soon as you mop this up, you’ll go and check out whatever must’ve fallen and made that ungodly rack—

*THUD*

“Aaaagh!!” you scream, scattering your napkins in a papery snowstorm. What was that?! That could not have been storeroom boxes. Now you have to investigate. This can’t wait. 

Just to be safe, you pull out a knife from inside one of the break room counter drawers and grab your handbag, which is stocked with the canister of pepper spray your father gave you when you first started working nights. You never know. Some imbecile could be trying to rob the museum, even though there isn’t anything worth more than a handful of magic beans.

You make your cautious way down the dim hall toward the storeroom door. That’s where the noise seemed to have come from. You notice through the door’s window that the room is still unlit, just like you left it, so either the bandit has night vision or he’s just plain stupid and forgot to bring a flashlight. Judging from the cacophony of sound he’s stirring up, it’s probably the latter. 

You creep until you reach the doorknob, then slowly ease it open with the hand that isn’t clutching the knife. Just inside the door you can hear something or someone bumping and knocking around. Yep. Definitely a bandit. And definitely not a very good one.

With a surge of confidence, or more likely adrenaline, you fling the door wide and flip on the lights. “Gotcha!!”

But.

Standing wide-eyed at the center of a pile of dusty rubble is a young man, oddly lacking the expected ski mask and hockey pads. Regardless, he looks caught in the act and stares at you dumbfounded. 

You stare back, equally dumbfounded, still holding your knife in a ridiculous stance above your head. Your eyes dart wildly around the room, but they cannot find any sign of the Eren Jaeger statue you had so lovingly examined only minutes ago. None, that is, until you notice the pile of faintly sparkling rubble at the intruder’s feet. 

“What the hell did you DO?!” you bellow, losing your collected cool and lunging at him crazily with the knife.

As soon as you reach him, however, he twists the blade easily from your grip and yanks your arms painfully behind your back, rendering you powerless. You struggle against his strength in vain. Not such a pathetic bandit after all. This sap’s got some moves.

“Let me go! Let me go, you bastard!” you growl. “Why the hell did you smash that sculpture?! Didn’t you know how much it was worth?? What kind of bandit are you?!”

“Bandit? Sculpture?” the man repeats, as if the words are new to him. After giving you a glance-over and deciding you aren’t much of a threat, he obeys your request and releases you. He looks down at the scattered marble pieces, then back up at your feral angry expression. “Ohh… I get it.”

His eyes scan the room, stopping to rest on the statue of Levi. He takes a step toward it.

“Hell no,” you say, stepping between him and the relic. “You aren’t gonna go and smash that one too.”

“Really? And who’s gonna stop me, you?”

“Yes.” You whip your pepper spray out of your bag and point the nozzle at the infuriating bandit man. 

“What kind of weapon is that?” he smirks. “Looks more like something Sasha would eat with her potatoes.”

You squeeze the trigger, hard, aiming straight for his ridiculously large green eyes, but before the spray even hits him, he’s got you locked in another choke hold, the canister clattering harmlessly to the cement floor. Even still, a little residue lingers in the air, and the man cries out in pained surprise. 

“The hell is your problem?!” he snarls in your ear. “I’m just trying to revive my colonel!”

“Your colonel?” The shock of his strange words makes you pause in your struggling.

The bandit shoves you away violently. You collapse to the floor, helpless as he reaches your beloved treasure and puts out a hand to topple it over. 

“No, please don’t…”

But it’s too late. The idiot bandit gives a forceful shove, and the most meticulous rendering of Colonel Levi Ackerman you have ever seen comes crashing down onto the unforgiving cement floor. 

As the dust settles, you’re already sobbing. It was such a beautiful piece… and all those mysteries it could have unlocked, all the secrets it could have revealed, all the new stories it could have told… lost. It might’ve even helped clue you in to what became of Levi and Eren. But no longer. And what would the city curator say?! She’d blame you, of course. Maybe even shut down your humble little museum…

“Mmmmrrgh…”

What was that? You peer deeper into the haze of marble dust. Lying in the middle of the rubble is a pile of cloth. A moving pile of cloth. A body! A breathing body!

“It’s… alive,” you observe keenly. “What the hell. My statue is moving.”

“It’s… he’s not a statue,” the bandit says. “He’s a sarcastic little piece of shit, and maybe the world would be a better place if he was a statue, but right now, I need him like hell.”

“But…but…” you stutter, staring blankly at the scattered marble and the heap of breathing cloth. “If that’s really Colonel Levi…” You stare pointedly at the strange green-eyed bandit. “Then you’re… you must be…”

“Major Eren Jaeger, not at your service.”

“How the hell…” You feel out of breath. The gears of your brain are out of alignment. But one thought pierces through the jumbled mist of all others. The question that had plagued you for most of your life finally has a chance to be answered. “What happened to you?”

“Yeah, that is a pretty good question. Where are we exactly, and where the hell is all this weird glowy white light coming from?” The man who you are gradually accepting to be Eren Jaeger – the same Eren Jaeger of your childhood stories, Humanity’s Final Hope – is glowering with intense loathing at the overhead fluorescent lights. 

“It’s electricity. Something we’ve come up with during the thousand some years you spent as a statue,” you smirk.

“Th-thousand years?” Eren stammers, staring at you in frozen horror. “No… no, that can’t be right. We set off on our mission just this morning. It was routine titan cleanup. There’s no way…”

“Mmmemghlld…” Levi groans from his heap on the floor. His green Survey Corps clock rustles as his tries to set himself upright. Eren rushes over to help him.

“You doing okay, Colonel?” he asks the smaller man. 

Suddenly, Levi whips his head up and fixes you with a furious glare. “Tell us where we are, girl. Now. That’s an order.”

You swallow, kneeling down slowly, carefully, as if you were approaching a feral alley cat. Your thoughts are finally starting to link together, and you think you’ve found an explanation to this utterly unprecedented madness. For years you had heard about Eren’s legendary powers, all the bizarre and wondrous things he could do, but you never imagined…

“I-I think you’re not going to want to hear this, much less believe it, but I’ll try to… do this nicely.” You swallow, gathering courage around your words. “Things are a little different from how you remember them. To my world, you are nothing but a legend, and a dusty one at that. You’re ancient heroes. Everyone in the western world knows your names. We tell stories about all your adventures to little kids as bedtime stories…”

“Huh?” Eren interjects. “Legends? Why would someone tell stories about me? I’m hardly ancient history.”

“That’s the thing though. You kind of are.” Your tone is tragic. You can’t even being to fathom the emotions waking up a thousand years after your time would bring. “You and Levi supposedly died over twelve hundred years ago.

Eren stares, his celadon eyes large and vacant. Levi, on the other hand, is fully conscious. He glares at you evenly with ice sharp eyes, pointing at you menacingly with the twin blades still in his grip. “If this is some sort of trick,” he grits. “You can bet you won’t live to see tomorrow’s sunrise.”

The blades clatter to the floor.

“Looks like your equipment is about twelve hundred years overdue for maintenance,” you observe. Seeing the looks that flicker across their faces, you immediately regret those words. 

“Eren, do you remember how we both ended up petrified?” Levi asks his subordinate, tone verging on frantic. “I remember setting out for our cleanup operation in the morning, but everything else I’ve… everything after is blurry. Maybe if we can remember we can figure out where we are… and how to get back…”

In all the stories you’d heard of him, Colonel Levi had been described as cool and level-headed. In every stressful situation, he was the one telling the rest of his squad to keep calm. That is not the man you see before you now. He looks as if he has been rocked by an earthquake. The sight pains you. It makes you feel bad for something that isn’t even your fault. 

“Think, Eren. Remember what I told you, all the way back on your first mission as part of the Survey Corps? If you don’t want to die, think. Try and remember how we got here. What is it that made you turn us into stone? What threat was there?”

Eren is in rough shape. He looks held together by threads. Levi has his hands on Eren’s shoulders, his face leaning as close as it can to his taller subordinate.

“Well, can you remember?” Levi demands.

Eren shoves him away. “I’m trying, okay? Just give me space to clear my head!”

“Trying isn’t good enough. Shouldn’t you have learned that by now, after all those years?! Right now, I just need you to do it. Remember. Why are we here? What made you turn us into statues?”

Eren grips his head, eyes wild and sopping. “I… can’t! I don’t remember! I’m sorry!”

A long shadow crosses the colonel’s face. “Sorry doesn’t change anything. Sorry is meaningless.” He rises and kicks a nearby chair, sends it tumbling across the room. 

Eren crumples to the ground, shaking.

Your heart officially ripped in two, you decide to do something about this mess. Standing with your hands on your hips, you stare down the both of them and clear your throat to speak. “Listen, you two. It’s really too bad that you’ve skipped out on the world and let it get twelve hundred years ahead of you. It totally sucks. But right now, there’s nothing you can do about it, because I’m sorry to break it to you, but we still have yet to create a functioning time machine. And though it appears your gear has not stood well against the test of time, for whatever reason, the two of you have. You have a lot of life left to live, and you can either spend it sobbing or you can go out and find your place in this new and different world. Those are your choices. You may not like them, but there they are, all the same. Chose whichever one you’ll regret the least.”

Lecture over, you leap off your metaphorical pedestal and examine the faces of your audience. Eren is once again dumbstruck. Levi’s expression remains listless as a rock, but somehow you can tell he’s a little – just a bit – impressed. After all, you paraphrased one of his most famous quotes. 

“Not bad, brat,” he admits. “But you still haven’t told us where we are. And regardless of my failed equipment, I will make personally sure you are dead by morning if you try to feed us any shit.” He turns to Eren. “And pull yourself together. You’re an embarrassment.”

“Are we really going to listen to this girl?” Eren asks. “She could be one of the outsider rebels for all we know.”

“I am well aware of that. But seeing as neither of us can provide an explanation as to how we arrived here and with our equipment in the state that it’s in, we currently have no better option.”

Eren nods, drying his eyes with the corner of his cloak. They both look to you, ready for answers you’re all too prepared to give. Except… explaining everything that happened in the last twelve hundred years is no easy thing. But lucky for these two, you specialize in the Dark Times, their times, and all that comes immediately after. You know the stories better than anyone alive, at least around this town. 

“Okay…” you say, mentally rolling back your sleeves.

“Wait a second,” Eren interrupts suddenly. “Before you say anything, I just need you to promise me something.”

“What is it?” you ask, a bit puzzled.

“Promise not to tell me what happens to Mikasa.”


	2. Getting to Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren and Levi become better acquainted with Grenoble, the reader's hometown, as well as to the modern world in general. Expect a smattering of tomato soup, psychotic ice cream, questionable hair curlers, and an unexpected face from the past.

“I already told you, Papsi. I don’t know how the bandit got in or why they smashed the statues. But it happened and now there’s nothing either of us can do about it.”

Papsi leans back in his chair, thoughtful. “I understand all that, ___. But I still find it hard to believe. Knowing you, you must’ve been with those fellas the whole night. You must’ve at least seen the bleeping bugger that did this.”

You sigh, exasperated. “I didn’t. Not a glimpse, okay? And right now we have bigger things to worry about, like what we’re going to tell the city curator when she gets here in a few minutes.”

“Yeah… about that. She’s already here. I let her in through the back door before you came. She’s probably snooping around, doing all sorts of no good snoopy stuff.”

“Papsi, what!? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” You bolt out of the break room, your metal folding chair clattering to the floor in your wake. You sprint down the hall toward the storeroom, toward the place where you stashed the broken –

“OOOMPF!!”

You collide headlong into another pedestrian.

“I—I’m so, so sorry…” you gasp, looking up at the poor bloke you so unceremoniously careened into. “Oh… it’s you.”

Standing before you, wearing a disdainful sneer and a snappy three piece suit, is the city museum’s curator. Petunia Finkelstein. You should’ve known. Who else would be in the museum, other than you and Papsi?

“Ms. Finkelstein,” you say, putting special emphasis on the “Ms.” The city curator is a femi-Nazi in the worst degree, the sort of woman that makes people hate feminists. The sort of woman who gets on your nerves without even having to say anything.

“Ms. ___,” the curator nods. “I see you’re as unprofessional as ever. What kind of institution are you trying to run here, a zoo? A daycare, perhaps? Where else would they let young ladies like you make fools of themselves by dashing about the halls?”

You smirk internally at her choice of phraseology. To make herself seem more intelligent, Ms. Finkelstein adopts a slight Oxford accent and uses what she considers to be “proper English.”

“Now if you would excuse me, I would very much like to see where you’re keeping the supposed tribute statues of the forgotten heroes.”

“They’re not forgotten,” you snap. “They’re called the ‘Fallen Heroes.’”

“And what is the difference?”

“Yah ain’t forgotten if people tell stories ‘bout yah,” you twang, using the slang just to irritate her.

She makes a face at your grammar, but says nothing about it. “Just show me where you are keeping them.”

“Right this way your royal Highness.” You motion for her to follow you into the storeroom, where you take her to a closet in the back wall. You open the door, and shards of marble come tumbling out. “There you are. Our statues.”

“Those are not statues. Those are white rocks.”

“They used to be statues, but unfortunately a bandit broke in last night and smashed them into white rocks.”

“Ha!” Ms. Finkelstein laughs. “What a likely story! I bet you knocked those out of those cliffs on the far side of this town.”

“I’m telling you the truth. They were statues. Why else would your museum director tell you to come here?”

Ms. Finkelstein looks down at you amusedly. “My dear girl, there haven’t been any major discoveries at the site in Alemanni in over a century. Your precious little legend has dried up, I’m afraid. No one cares about musty forgotten heroes or the dark ages. It’s a time humanity longs to be rid of, and with good reason. As for the director, that old boffin has been off his rocker for years now. He’ll believe anything. In fact, I’m in good position to take his job in a short while.” She smiles wickedly. “And once I do, I think I may have to close down a certain obsolete satellite museum.”

With that, she swipes up her clipboard and clicks out the back door in her ridiculously high heels.

You resist the urge to spit in her wake.

Papsi pokes his head through the hallway doorframe. “So, how’s it go- oh. Gone already, huh? Good riddance.”

“Not quite, Papsi. I’ve got some bad news. She said the director at the city museum might be out of a job soon, and guess who’s going to take his place?”

“No…”

“Yep. And surprise surprise, once she’s queen, she’s going to shut us down.”

“That’s really too bad, ___,” Papsi says, clapping a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I’m going to miss this job, more than any of the others this old hobo has had.”

You grin weakly. “You’re not an old hobo. You just live in a shack.”

“Yes I do. And it’s a good little shack, too.”

“Why don’t you take the day off, Papsi? Now that there’s nothing to clean or catalogue. I’m only staying for a while longer myself, and then I think I’ll head home.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Papsi says, winking. “As long as you promise to tell me what really happened to those boyfriends of yours.”

“What are you talking about, Papsi? They were smashed, that’s all.” But as you turn to look at him, he’s already gone. He does that sometimes. You have a sneaking suspicious that he was Batman in a former career. 

\---

You ride your bicycle home to the tune of your gloomy thoughts. Somewhere deep in your mind, you had known this day was coming, the day when the museum threatened to breathe its last, but you had always stubbornly ignored the inevitability. You wanted to believe you could keep the whole thing alive with nothing but the strength of your own awe. That’s why you took this job back in high school. You don’t get paid – that’s what your abhorrent job as a grocery clerk is for – you’re just there to soak in the history. But by and by, as the museum grew less and less frequented, many of the paid curators and custodians just left. Now it’s little more than you and Papsi.

You sigh as you cycle along a path at the windy local beach, past the cliffs Ms. Finkelstein mentioned earlier. They’re called Heather’s Cliffs, apparently after some princess who had leapt to her death off of them even before the Dark Times. They are stunningly bleached, incandescent, and despite the insufferable city curator’s false assumptions, they are not made of marble, but chalk, with occasional streaks of black flint. Despite their dark history, they are the pride of Grenoble, your hometown, and your constant reminders of the overwhelming beauty tucked in the corners of this hideous world. 

There is a quicker way to your apartment, but you usually take this route just to soak in the cliffs, the sea, and the dazzling loneliness. After all, you only have the span of the summer holiday to enjoy this, and then it’s back to university. 

\---

You turn the key to your flat with a heavy hand, opening the creaky door and flicking on the dismal lighting.

Eren is in your living room, covered in blood.

“Holy shit,” you gasp. “Holyshitholyshitholyshit... I need to get some help. I need to call an ambulance. I need to stop the bleeding… where’s a sock, a piece of cloth… anything!”  
You dart frantically around your cramped living space, flapping your arms like a mother hen with missing chicks. 

“Calm down, it’s not blood,” Eren says, laughing. “It’s… whatever the hell this stuff is.”

He holds up a demolished can of tomato soup. 

You stare at the can, not comprehending its existence. Thoughts slowly take shape in your mind, like mud pies. “Where… what… why…”

“I was experimenting with this thing. Apparently it’s pretty powerful for a strange little box.” Eren points to your microwave, or what remains of it, resting on your coffee table and equally covered in tomato soup. In fact, your entire living room, which doubles as your kitchen, is covered in tomato soup.

“What the hell were you doing?!” you demand.

“I… well, you told us to make ourselves at home, but how could I without knowing what all these weird devices did?”

Now that the initial gaping shock has worn off, you take in the ruins of your living room/kitchen in their entirety. The rotating ceiling fan is dripping with wet socks, every once in a while flinging one to the floor like a sopping bomb. Your couch is coated in burn scars, your curling iron draped guiltily over one of the arms. The television set is turned on, some sort of obscure soap opera playing out behind a web of cracks. The cabinet doors to the compartment under your sink have been flung wide, exposing dented and mangled pipes. Not even your floor lamp has escaped the carnage. Its cord looks as if it has been chomped on by a Rottweiler, and its outlet is marred by scorch marks. And everything is absolutely drenched in tomato soup.

“I’ll say it again, what the hell were you doing?” you ask with deceptive calmness.

“Like I said, I was making myself at home.”

“What kind of home do you live in?!”

“One without all this weird explody shit. How was I supposed to know the little box would spit out the strange bloody soup?”

“Where’s Levi?”

Eren points at the door behind him. “He’s locked himself in the white room. Said it was the closest thing to clean in this whole place.”

“Of course it is, now that you’ve drowned the rest of it in tomato soup!” you screech. “How did you even manage? You must’ve kept the can sealed and gotten it pretty hot…”

And suddenly, you’re laughing. Collapsed on the floor, rolling in tomato soup, tears streaming from the twisted pleasure of it all. For a moment, you forgot about the impending doom crouched in waiting for your beloved museum, along with all your other buried troubles. For a moment, you are careless and free, pleasantly overwhelmed by the absurd turn your life has taken. Eren Jaeger, the hero of legend, is in your apartment. Covered in tomato soup. And now you too are equally covered in tomato soup. And you can’t stop laughing.

The bathroom door creaks open. Levi pokes a wary head out. “What is going on out here?”

“Oh sure. You stay barricaded in there while your major demolishes my flat, but you pop out as soon as I have a little laugh attack,” you say. The statement makes you burst into a renewed fit of giggles.

Levi takes a look around the room. “Eren, what is this?”

“Uh, Colonel… I can explain…”

“Eren, did you make this ungodly mess?”

“I might have… a little bit. But wait. Hear me out. Hear me out, Colonel! Aaaah!”

But it’s too late. Levi has his subordinate in an especially painful-looking headlock.

“Ow ow ow! Levi, cut it! I promise I’ll clean it up! I promise to clean everything!”

“No, you won’t. I will. You’ll only manage to make it worse.”

“Guys, guys! Calm down!” You somehow manage to wedge yourself between the two soldiers, forcing Levi to release Eren from his talons. “Both of you are going to help me clean this place, but first, we need to go shopping.”

“Shopping?” Eren asks.

“Yeah, so wipe off all that goop and get ready.”

“How? I’m drenched.”

“I’ll show you how,” you say, grabbing Eren’s hand and dragging him into your teensy bathroom. You shove him into your tiny corner shower and crank on the water, hard and cold.

“Aaaagh!” Eren yells. “The hell! Now I’m all wet!”

“But at least you’re clean,” you say, clambering into what little space remains in the shower and scrubbing the red gunk off your arms. You try to ignore the awkwardness of sharing a shower with a complete stranger of the opposite gender. 

“Alright. I think we’re good.” You switch off the water once the last of the tomato slop has spiraled down the drain. You drag the sopping titan shifter back into your decimated living room, where Levi has already commenced his attack against the tidal wave of red slime.

“Nope nope nope, not now. We are getting out of here,” you say, swiping Levi up by his collar (do not try this at home, kids) and dragging him along with Eren out your front door. “You guys are in desperate need of some modern day threads, and judging by Eren’s masterpiece in my living room, I’m all out of tomato soup.”

“But I thought you didn’t want anyone to see us,” Eren says.

“No avoiding that now. This is an emergency,” you say. You turn on your smartphone and call for a taxi. “Besides, people will probably just think you’re cosplayers.”

“Cos-what?” Eren asks. “And what’s that big yellow box on wheels?” 

He points to the approaching taxi. Wow. That was fast. Must have been in the area. Your dear little Grenoble typically doesn’t have many taxis milling about.

“’Cosplayers’ is short for ‘costume-players,’ people who dress up as characters or historical figures and sometimes reenact famous events or scenes from TV shows. And that big yellow box is a taxi, and you are getting into it.” You shove him toward the waiting vehicle. You’re still a little miffed about the state of your apartment, and shoving the man around is your small way of enacting revenge.

“Okay, okay,” Eren relents, climbing into the taxi of his own accord. Levi follows him wordlessly, and you claim shotgun. 

“Hyacinth Avenue, please, sir,” you tell the driver. The street is a renowned shopping district.

“Sure thing,” the driver replies. “And I’m not a ‘sir,’ Miss. Call me Ed.” He glances at the two men in the back. “These your older brothers?”

You cackle maniacally. “Heh, yeah. My two big bros, escorting their dear little sister on a shopping trip. Who else would carry all my bags?”

Eren and Levi glance at each other. 

“Alright, you happy family. Next stop, Hyacinth Avenue~”

You wonder briefly how much you’ll be forced to pay this guy to keep him so chipper.

\---

“And over here is the men’s department,” you say, directing your two companions. “Try to pick out something nice and not terribly expensive. I don’t feel like going bankrupt over you two, especially after what you did to my living room.”

“Okay…I understand that this is a shirt,” Eren says, pinching a light blue men’s dress shirt between his thumb and forefinger and holding it gingerly to the department store’s lights. “And those are probably pants.” He points to a neatly folded stack of slacks. “But what the hell is some of this other crap?” He glares accusingly at the racks of ties and boxer-briefs.

Levi holds up a belt. “I can tell this was intended to be a leather strap of some sort, but it was obviously never part of a real cow.”

“Okay, guys. Stop playing with the clothes and focus,” you chide them. Eren has grabbed one of the neckties and is attempting to wrap it around his head like a bandana. Levi is trying to figure out what part of his 3D maneuver gear straps the belt fits into. Honestly, they’re like toddlers, ignoring their mother when she tells them not to touch anything.

“But these are hardly clothes!” Eren protests. “Show me where the tunics and stuff are.”

“Sorry to say, Eren, but men’s tunics went out of style a few hundred years ago. But if you’re really set on them, I can show you some in the Junior Girls’ Department…”

“Ick, no. I’ll stick with whatever the hell this is.” He swipes up the light blue floral print dress shirt he had been examining before, along with a pair of starkly orange plaid slacks, and holds the clothes out for you to approve.

“Hm, no,” you say. “Those don’t match, Eren.”

He chucks them violently to the floor. “Then what does?! You can’t expect me to know what’s in style twelve hundred years past my time! I barely even knew back then!”

“What, did you have Mikasa pick out all your clothes for you?” you tease.

Eren’s eyes trail down to the pile of cloth at his feet. “Yeah… something like that,” he mutters.

But before you have a chance to ask him what the deal is, you hear a crash from somewhere not too far away.

“Colonel!” Eren yells. It seems Levi was a bit too enthusiastic about the belts. He must’ve yanked at them so hard the entire rack came tumbling down on top of him.

You and Eren rush over and lift the shelving unit off the short-statured colonel, who seems completely unfazed by the ordeal. “Oi, brat. How do I look?” Levi asks you.

He is almost entirely covered in leather belts. From black to brown to dark navy blue to something that looks like it could be green but you aren’t entirely sure. Buckles of all shapes and sizes, wrapped around the colonel’s calves, thighs, waist and arms. He looks… utterly ridiculous. You can’t help but snicker.

“What? What is so funny?” Levi demands.

“How… did you think that was a good idea?” you ask between snorts.

Levi scowls. “It’s like my shitty major said, girl. I do not have the slightest idea what passes as fashionable in your time. Besides, I was merely looking for replacements for my 3D maneuver gear.”

“Oh really.”

“Yes, really.”

“Then why’d you get all strapped in like that?”

Levi pauses. “I was making sure they were working properly. Who knows with all this fake cow?”

You struggle to get your giggles under control. Once you do, you clear your throat. “Okay. Looks like it’s up to me to get you guys out of your centuries-old threads. Which means you are powerless to object to whatever I pick out for you.” You grin maniacally. This is going to be fun.

\---

“You mean you’ve never had ice cream before?!” you gasp.

“’Fraid not,” Eren replies. “In my time, cows were few and far between, because of the scarceness of grazing land, so cream was hard to come by. And whatever we did manage to get, it was usually rationed out to children.”

“Yeah, I knew all that, but… ice cream!” you exclaim. “It’s God’s greatest gift to the universe! How have you not had it even once?”

“Farmlands were scarce…”

“Ugh, I know already!! Just shut up and let me buy you some before I explode!”

“I don’t think it’s possible to explode from a lack of dairy products,” Levi says. 

But you aren’t listening anymore. You march to the closest ice cream stand (actually, the only ice cream stand currently in Heather’s Cliffs Park) and order three cones of the best flavor in the world: maple nut. The ice cream man eyes you a little strangely as you hand him your money. You have a bit of a psychotic glint in your eye at the sight of your favorite treat. Maybe even a little drool at the corner of your mouth. 

“Thank you, sir,” you say to him with pressed politeness, taking the three cones and racing back to the park bench you and your two companions have claimed. Behind you, the poor man wipes his brow and thanks God he wasn’t eaten alive by his psychotic customer.

“Here you go. Try it,” you order, handing Levi and Eren each a cone. Levi watches in horror as his scoop drips closer and closer to his hand in the afternoon summer heat. “Oh, right,” you say, handing him a pile of napkins. “Neat freak.”

Without hesitation, Eren takes a whopping bite out of his. “Ohhh…” he groans. “That’s cold. How do people eat this without catching hypothermia?”

“Relax, silly head. It’s just a brain freeze. It’ll pass. Just try not to eat so fast,” you say.

“I wasn’t…”

“Yes, you were,” Levi says, takings small licks of his. “Not bad…”

“Not bad? I think it’s a little better than not bad!” you exclaim. “It’s the frozen tears of God Himself.”

“I wouldn’t go that far…yet.”

You smile and laugh, taking a minute to admire the scenery. Heather’s Cliffs Park is a breathtaking attraction, set at the top of the cliffs themselves. It offers a great view of the grey, rolling ocean below, as well as an excellent spot to watch the sunset. Vibrantly green grass carpets the spaces between the gravel walkways, and minute flower gardens ring each of the trees. But the most peculiar feature of all is the sprinkling of tigerlilies nestled near the cliff’s edge. They’ve been growing there since forever, and according to legend they sprouted from the blood of the princess who supposedly committed suicide here long ago. But you know that’s rubbish. If the princess committed suicide by leaping off the cliff, her blood wouldn’t stain the top of said cliff, now would it?

But so the stories go. And whatever their origin, the tigerlilies are beautiful. Sometimes, you sneak into the park at night and snag a few to display in your apartment. They’re one of your favorite flowers.

You look back at your unlikely companions. You still find it a little hard to believe two of the most legendary figures in history somehow ended up in your company. And what’s more, they look almost unrecognizable in the new outfits you picked out for them: Eren in his blue plaid button-down shirt, My Chemical Romance throwback tee, and cargo shorts, Levi in his navy dress shirt and casual slacks. They look almost like they actually belong in this century.

“I still don’t understand why I have to wear this particular shirt,” Eren says, tugging on his tee. Unfortunately, he forgets about his ice cream cone, and some of it drips onto the shirt. “Aagh.”

“What a pig,” Levi remarks, handing Eren a napkin.

You sigh. “I already told you. They were a super popular group. Wearing throwback tees of old rock bands is totally in right now, and it’ll help you blend.”

“Yeah, but there’ve got to be other things that are just as popular. Why this?” He stares at the spider-shaped logo with suspicion.

You smile sheepishly. “Okay, you got me. I just happen to like the band, that’s all.” You think for a moment. “Also, their music used to remind me of you. It’s so… defiant. And passionate, yet not afraid to express its true feelings. Like I always imagined you to be.”

Eren says nothing at first. “I guess I’m still getting used to the fact that I’m a legend in your time.”

“I bet it’s pretty strange.”

“Oh yeah. But not without its perks. But how come no one’s asked me for my autograph yet?”

“Probably because they don’t know exactly what you look like,” Levi says. “In our time, we didn’t have… those devices that draw a picture instantaneously. What are they called again?”

“Cameras,” you supply.

“Right. We didn’t have cameras.”

“But to tell you the truth,” you say. “There are plenty of paintings and sculptures of you two. And now that I know what you really look like, I can say they get you down pretty good. The real reason no one’s spotted you yet is people just don’t visit museums that much anymore. Especially not ones that specialize in the Dark Times, like the NAMDA, my museum. People don’t want to spend time remembering that particular scar in human history.”

Eren and Levi are both silent at this.

You turn and watch a group of children tossing around a Frisbee. One of them accidentally throws it a bit too hard, and the spinning plastic disk goes careening over the edge of the cliff, on a collision course with the crashing waves below. The kids all groan, leaning against the guardrail that stops people from doing what Princess Heather did all those years ago.

“I guess that’s to be expected,” Eren says at last. “Sometimes I wish I could forget myself what those horrible monsters did to us…”

“Speaking of monsters,” you say suddenly. “Can you still transform into a titan?”

“Haven’t tried it,” Eren says flatly. “And don’t expect me to try in the middle of all these people.”

“Of course not,” you say softly, sensing you’d struck a nerve. “I was only curious.”

“Yeah, well, you can stop being curious. I’ve already put up with enough of your modern crap. Don’t expect me to become your personal sideshow freak as well.”

“Eren,” Levi says sternly.

“No, it’s okay. I totally get it,” you say. “If you don’t like something, or feel uncomfortable for any reason, Eren, just let me know. I’ll do what I can to help. I have no idea how hard it is to wake up after twelve hundred years have passed, but I’ll do my best to understand.”

Eren crosses his arms in moody silence.

“Eren, she’s not your enemy,” Levi says.

He gives a slight nod at his colonel’s words, but doesn’t uncross his arms.

“How ‘bout we head on home?” you suggest, trying in vain to clear away the dismal cobwebs. You pick up the plastic bags by your feet. “We’ve got all the necessary shopping done.”

“That sounds good,” Levi says, rising from the bench and brushing imaginary dust off his slacks. “Then I can get straight to cleaning that abhorrent mess.”

“Eren, you coming?” you ask the sullen-faced man. He looks like a moping teenage gang member. The only thing missing is the backwards facing baseball cap and the sagging pants.

“Why wouldn’t he come?” Levi asks, eyeing Eren disapprovingly. “Where else would we go?”

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Eren mutters, rising.

You smile weakly. What are you going to do with these two? You can’t keep them locked away in your life forever.

\---

In front of your apartment complex, in the wake of the taxi’s dust, you turn to the titan slayers. “Okay, guys. We’ve got to do this as quietly and carefully as we can.”

“Do what?” Eren asks, a bit too loudly.

“Get to my apartment,” you whisper. “And shh, she’ll hear you.” You tiptoe up the stairway to the building’s front door.

“Who will hear me?” Eren asks, even louder.

“Quiet!! My landlady.”

“And what is wrong with your landlady hearing us?” Levi asks.

“It’s just… people make assumptions when a girl in her early twenties bring home a guy, much less two guys. Especially my landlady. That’s why the other tenants and I nicknamed her Mother Hen, because she gossips like a chicken, and hovers like one, too.”

The three of you are now in the complex’s lobby. You make your cautious way over to the stairwell, your two ancient heroes in tow.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you,” Eren says, obnoxiously loud. He’s obviously enjoying his defiance.

You freeze, hearing approaching footsteps coming from the hallway leading to the landlady’s apartment. “Great, now you’ve done it,” you rasp at Eren.

He grins innocently.

The footsteps are growing louder. Your eyes dart around, searching for a way to escape your impending doom. Eventually, they land on the door to the stairwell. “Quick! In here! Fly up those bloody stairs as fast as you can!” You shove the two men into the stairwell, handing them all the shopping bags. You slam the door shut behind them, just as your landlady rounds the corner.

“Good evening, ___. What on earth are you doing out so late?”

And there she stands. Mrs. Winona Lavender, gloriously garbed in a frilly pink bathrobe, demonic yellow bunny slippers, and the dreaded hair curlers. This is bad. This is really bad. You’ve had nightmares about those curlers. 

“Oh, you know. Lots of work to get done at the museum,” you titter. 

“That’s right. I forgot you volunteer there. Tell me, do you get many patrons these days?” Mrs. Lavender takes a sip from a mug she clutches in her talons. The stench of the burned-to-a-crisp black coffee curls in your nostrils like acrid smoke.

“Mmm… not as many as we’d like,” you trail. Maybe if you act like you’re in a hurry she’ll go away. “And I’m really sorry, but I’ve got a ton of paperwork to fill out before I hit the hay, so I’ll just-

“Wait just a second, dear. I swear I heard more than just your feet skittering across my nice freshly waxed floors just now. Have any guests I’m not aware of?” She sips her tar. “After all, it is my policy that all tenants notify me when they are hosting guests. So I don’t… accidentally… think they’re intruders and call the police.” Sip.

“Nope, nope. Not at all. You must have been hearing things. I don’t have any guests. It’s just me, hehe…”

“Well…” Mrs. Lavender says. Sip. “I’ll take your word for it, my dear. But remember…” Sip. “I don’t take kindly to intruders. And I know I needn’t remind you of my concealed carry license…” Sip sip.

“Right,” you say, sweat pouring off you like a rainforest. “You have a good night, Mrs. Lavender.”

“You too, dear. You too.” And with another birdlike sip of her motor oil, Mrs. Lavender turns to shuffle back to her apartment.

“Whew.” You wipe your brow, whipping open the stairwell door and racing back to your apartment as fast as your quaking legs can carry you.

\---

You unlock your apartment door to a bizarrely welcoming sight: Levi with a hand towel wrapped like a bandana over his chin, a matching one covering most of his hair. He’s ambling around your wood-printed living room/kitchen floor, scrubbing it till it shines. There isn’t a trace of tomato left, and he’d only been there five minutes tops.

“Woow…” you say, amazed. “You work fast. But how did you get in without my key?”

“Please,” Levi says. “I grew up in the underworld. I could pick locks almost before I could walk.”

“I don’t doubt that…” you say, setting down your bag on a coffee table. “There’s still a long way to go with this cleaning, though. Sure you’re okay with doing all this?”

“I can’t accept living in a pig sty,” Levi replies. “And I don’t trust either you or Jaeger to do a good enough job with a mess of this magnitude.”

“Fine then. Suit yourself. I’m certainly not going to stop you. Where is Eren, though?”

Levi points to the door to your bedroom.

“Agh, the one place I don’t want him.”

You burst in to find Eren lounging across your twin-sized bed, turning your unopened laptop computer in his hands.

“Oh no you don’t,” you say, swiping the computer from him. “You aren’t going to go breaking that too. I wouldn’t be able to afford a replacement.”

“What is it?” Eren asks, sitting up.

“It’s a lot of things.” You plop down on the bed, flipping open the computer and logging onto your favorite social media site. “You can use it to look up recipes, pay your taxes, even go to school, if you’d like.” On your profile page, the new messages icon glows a faint blue. “Oh, I bet it’s from Marigold,” you say, clicking on the icon.

“Who’s Marigold? What are you doing? Why is that thing glowing?” Eren asks rapid fire.

“I’m on something called social media. Think of it as… lightning fast mail. You know, instead of writing a letter and having a mailman carry it to the person it’s intended for, this thing sends it instantaneously. In seconds. Just like that.” You snap your fingers to demonstrate.

“I know what ‘instantaneously’ means,” Eren snaps.

“Alright, alright. Well, my friend Marigold and I have been meaning to hang out all summer, and now that I finally have a little downtime, I sent her a message this morning asking to hang tomorrow at a café we like. And I just got her response.”

“Wow. That is pretty fast.”

“Yeah, pretty cool huh?”

Eren’s eyes gleam like a child's in a candy store. All his former gloom has completely drained away. “Is that her?” He points to Marigold’s profile picture.

“Yep, that’s her. She’s a bit older than me, but we’ve been friends for a good three years now. We met in university. She’s working on her law degree, and I’m still just an undergraduate.”

“What are you two up to in here?” Levi asks suspiciously, poking his towel-covered head into your bedroom. He strides over to where you and Eren are perched, leaning his head over your shoulder to get a look at your computer screen.

“Nothing of your concern,” you snap. But when you look up to further reprimand him his face has lost all color. His eyes are wide.

“What… is that?” he asks softly.

“Hm? Oh, this is a computer. I was just showing it to Eren. It’s a pretty versatile machine. Just about everyone uses one these da-

“No, that is not what surprised me. That woman…”

He points at Marigold’s profile picture.

“She looks almost exactly like someone I once knew. Someone I last saw bloody and dead against a tree.”

You stare at the man. For once, you can see past his permanent poker face to the emotions buried beneath. You sense a void that has been lived with for far too long.

“Her name was Petra Ral.”


	3. Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to get soggy, as Eren has been in an unexplainable bad mood for weeks now. The reader does what she can to cheer him up, but what can one say to someone over one thousand years ahead of his time? Expect late night movies, a peculiar old lady, and Eren's new addiction.

-One Month Later-

You can’t help but marvel at how calm and untroubled Eren’s face looks when he’s asleep. It’s like he’s a whole different person, one who hasn’t lived through all those hardships. It takes you back to when you first saw him as a petrified statue. Tenacious and determined, but at peace.

“Gyah!! What the hell are you doing, looming over me all creepy like that?!” The spell is gone. Eren flings off the blanket he’d been wrapped in and leaps off the couch. His usual troubled expression has resumed its place on his face.

You chuckle. “Heh, sorry, Eren. I just woke up, and I was admiring how cute you look when you’re sleeping.”

“Ick. If that isn’t stalkerish I don’t know what is.”

“Calm down. It’s not like I kissed you or anything.”

“Agh! That didn’t even cross my mind until you mentioned it!”

You walk over to your kitchen counter, unaffected by the human maelstrom behind you. “Before you go all titan on me, just know that I made some coffee, and if you knock my roof out I won’t give you any.”

“Coffee?” Eren asks. All anger has drained from his face. Over the past month, Eren has declared the highly caffeinated beverage to be his one true love. You were concerned at first - the hyperactive titan shifter certainly didn’t need any more encouragement - but after he agreed to drink it in moderation, you grudgingly obliged.

“Yep. So settle down before I come to my senses.”

Eren obeys, taking a seat on the barstool you have set in front of your kitchen counter. He waits patiently, like a dog for a treat. 

“Here you go,” you say, handing him his mug. You bought it for him last week, because you figured any true coffee aficionado should at least have their own. It’s black with white block lettering that says: ‘Anyone can be cool, but awesome takes practice.’

“Ah, hell yes!” Eren exclaims. He finishes the drink in less than fifteen seconds.

“Eren, try taking it a little slower. You only get one a day, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember that’s what you said. But haven’t you been wondering where the grounds keep going whenever you’re off at work?”

“Eren!”

He grins impishly. 

You sigh and shake your head, pouring yourself a cup and mixing in a little hazelnut creamer. “So, where’s Levi?”

“He left early. You explained to us that we had to get out of here by the crack of dawn to avoid being noticed by your landlady, so that’s what he did.”

“Yeah, I know. But where’d he go?”

“Ah, he’s probably messing around somewhere, waiting to meet up with Marigold again. Why the hell should I care?”

You take a sip of your coffee and wince. “Man, Eren. How’d you drink that? It’s way too hot.” You set the mug down and wipe your mouth. “Anyway, you’re his major. Isn’t it your job to care where your colonel is? And those two sure have been spending a lot of time together, ever since I introduced them,” you muse.

“Yeah…but I’m not his babysitter or his older brother. He can take care of himself.”

“Hmm.” You examine Eren’s face. Lately he’s been a bit more grouchy and nonchalant than usual.

“Besides,” Eren continues. “It’s not like we’re soldiers anymore. We’re twelve hundred years past our retirement. The titans are gone. The world doesn’t need us anymore.”

He slams down his mug and jumps off the stool, making his way back to the sofa to bury his face in his hands.

Your coffee forgotten, you watch him sadly, wishing there was something you could say. “Well, I’m going to get ready. I’ve got work at the grocery store from nine to four today.”

Eren says nothing, so you walk into your bathroom and leave him to his thoughts. He’s a little too young to be going through a midlife crisis, you think to yourself.

\---

You push people’s items through the checkout lane with a heavy heart today. Normally this sort of work doesn’t bother you. It’s menial and repetitive, but it frees your mind to think about all sorts of things, like what new exhibits to put up at the museum. But today is different. Today is the day you have a missing Levi and an unhinged Eren. You’ve only known them for a month, but already they feel like family, like the two older brothers that taxi driver once mistook them for, and whenever they’re hurting, you’re hurting as well.

And there’s something else. As the weeks roll by, this terrible thought keeps revisiting you: what if it’s somehow your fault these two are stuck here, in a world they don’t belong in? What if your overwhelming desire to meet them somehow summoned them to you? It’s probably not possible, but then again about a month ago you didn’t think meeting Eren Jaeger and Levi Ackerman was possible.

“What is it, my dear?” 

You look up at the customer you’re currently ringing up an order for. It’s a pocket-sized elderly woman with tight woolen curls and a kindly wrinkled smile. Her head barely pokes over the register. “Oh, it’s nothing,” you assure her hastily. “Must’ve just been daydreaming.”

“Most people look a bit happier when they’re daydreaming,” the old woman replies, rummaging in her handbag. “Are you certain nothing is troubling you? You look like you could use a break.”

You take her rewards card and punch in the code before handing it back to her. “Well, my shift is just about over, so…”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” She smiles at you knowingly. “Tell you what. I’ll give you a little treat.” She digs into her purse again and pulls out a small cube of caramel. “There you go. That oughta make your day a speck brighter.”

“Th-thank you,” you stammer, handing the woman her receipt. “Have a nice day,” you call as she makes her way out of the store.

“That was pleasantly strange,” you say to yourself as you pop the sweet into your mouth. 

And maybe it’s the jolt of sugar rush granted to you by the caramel, but suddenly you know what to do.

\---

“Eren, Levi, I’m home!” you call as you open the door to your apartment. You survey the premises to find Eren right where you left him: lounged out on your sofa.

“Levi still hasn’t come back yet. It’s just me,” he informs you hoarsely.

“Man, have you moved since I left?” you remark, hands on your hips.

“Sure I have. I had to go to the bathroom a few times.”

“Did you eat?”

“Wasn’t hungry.”

“Hmm… well then. I have an idea.”

Eren looks at you, bored. “And?”

“I thought you could visit the museum with me today.”

“No, thank you.”

“Aw, really? That’s how you’re going to be?”

“Yep.”

“That’s too bad… I was really looking forward to it. And as a reward for finally crawling out of the apartment I had a little surprise ready for you.”

Eren perks up a fraction. “What kind of surprise?”

“The edible kind.”

Eren looks puzzled.

You hold up a grocery bag. “Found this at the grocery store. We don’t always carry it, as it’s pretty rare around here, but every once in a while, there’s a shipment.”

You pull out a cardboard quart of ice cream labeled ‘Coffee-Flavored.’

Eren’s eyes practically bug out of their sockets. “They make that?”

“Obviously, as I’ve currently got it in my hand, waving it under your nose.”

“Can I have some?”

“Nope, not unless you come with me to the museum.”

He glares at you with prominent malice. “You’re bribing me.”

“Yep. But don’t blame me. This would not have been necessary if you’d have stepped out of this apartment of your own free will sometime in the past month.”

He glares at you some more, and then stomps into your bedroom to retrieve one of the outfits you had picked out for him all those weeks ago. For the most part, Eren had just been walking around your apartment in his pajamas. Because yes, you had gotten him pajamas: simple navy plaid flannel pants and another throwback t-shirt. And though he did look pretty cute in them, a full grown man should only spend so long in his lounging clothes. 

You grin triumphantly to yourself as you put away the rest of your groceries. All thanks to the power of caramel candy. 

Or maybe the old lady was some sort of witch.

\---

“Hey, Papsi.”

“Hey there, ___. Didn’t expect to see you here today,” Papsi says, looking down from the fluorescent ceiling light he’s in the middle of replacing. He spots Eren walking next to you. “And what’s this? Looks like you’ve finally got yourself a special companion.”

“He’s just a friend, Papsi,” you correct him through your raging blush. Though he is pretty special, you think to yourself.

“What’s your name, pal?” Papsi asks, hopping down from his ladder.

“Oh, uh… my name is…” Eren looks at you frantically.

“His name is Aaron, Aaron… Pimpernel,” you say.

Eren looks at you in horrified shock but manages to keep his mouth shut.

“Is that so?” Papsi says, his tone laden with suspicion. “My name’s Geoffrey Poppy, but all the pleasant folks of Grenoble call me Papsi. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Pimpernel.” He puts out a hand for Eren to shake.

“Pleased to meet you… Papsi.” Eren shakes his hand.

“Would it be alright if I showed Aaron around a bit, Papsi? Or do you need help with something?” you ask.

“I don’t see why not, ___. This is a public museum after all. Though I know it’s probably hard to imagine, considering how few people bother to stop by,” Papsi sighs, shaking his head. “As for my work, it’s just routine maintenance. Nothing major. Just switching bulbs and dusting shelves. You kids go have fun.”

“Thanks, Papsi,” you say, grabbing Eren by the hand and dashing out of the storeroom.

“Oh, and uh, ___?” Papsi calls after you.

You stop and turn. “Yeah, Papsi?”

“Did you ever find out what happened to those statues you were so excited about?”

“…I’ve told you over and over again, Papsi. The bandit that broke in a month ago smashed them to pieces.”

“Hm, well alright then,” Papsi says, returning to his work and leaving you to drag Eren into the main segment of the museum.

\---

“This is incredible,” Eren breathes.

“Yeah, I’ve always thought so. And no matter how many times I come here, it always hits me like the first time.”

The two of you are in the largest exhibit room of the entire Northeast Aquitaine Museum of the Dark Times. From wall to wall, the large room tells the entire story of mankind’s darkest moment, from the day the titans first appeared to when the remaining sliver of humanity retreated behind their walled sanctuary to when Eren and the other Fallen Heroes finally defeated the terrible beasts. On display in the middle of the room, beneath the sunlight cast through its giant skylight, was a life-sized replica of the skeleton of a seven meter class titan.

“We don’t really have much in terms of authentic artifacts, since we’re such a small museum, but we have enough to recount the whole legend,” you explain. “Including a few functioning models of 3D maneuver gear and blades.”

Eren’s eyes light up. “Really? Where? Let me see!”

“There’re just over here,” you say, guiding him into a small room on the side. Beneath a case of glass is a shiny pair of blades and their accompanying 3D maneuver gear. Next to the pieces are a few plaques explaining the history of their development and uses.

“Wow, this is…pretty weird,” Eren says. “Seeing what counted as the height of modern technology in my time on display at a museum, centuries old.”

“I can only imagine,” you respond. “And look over here.”

You direct him to a life-sized model of a uniformed soldier fully strapped in his 3D maneuver gear, right arm crossing his chest in the traditional salute of the titan slayers. Eren lightly touches the Survey Corps patch on the model’s shoulder. “We have the uniforms of all four divisions of the military, of course,” you say. “But back when the museum actually had visitors, the Survey Corps one proved to be the most popular, so we just kept it up without changing it.”

“Heh, of course we’re popular now. We were the only ones getting shit done. But back then it wasn’t that way. People hated our guts. They thought we were just wasting their precious resources. At one point some sniveling nobles even tried to get us framed and wiped out of existence…”

“It wasn’t fair. Life dealt you a pretty tough hand,” you say softly, putting a hand on Eren’s shoulder. “But now it’s in the past, and you get the chance to live a new life away from all that. Come on. Let me show you something I think you’re gonna like.”

You guide him out of the 3D maneuver gear exhibit and into another side room.

A side room dedicated to the display of tribute pieces depicting some of the most famous heroes of the Dark Times.

Eren’s jaw hits the floor. “It’s… us. Someone painted pictures of… us.”

“Of course they did. You guys were famous. Are famous,” you correct yourself.

Eren reaches out to touch one of the paintings. 

“Uh-uh. Sorry, kid. It’s against museum policy to let people touch original artifacts,” you scold him, swatting his hand away.

“But what if I’m in the freaking painting?”

“Policy is the same. Sorry.”

Eren grumbles and makes a fuss, but otherwise keeps his hands to himself from then on out. His ire is soon forgotten in his excitement at seeing the faces of all his comrades. He talks as he soaks it all in, and you aren’t really sure if it’s to himself or to you. “There’s Sasha… and Connie, of course. Those two were inseparable from the start. And Jean. Heh, I used to get into the biggest fights with him. But he turned out to be a pretty alright guy. Wow, that’s a nice painting of Armin. Gotta say, he looked way cooler when he grew his hair out and wore it in a ponytail like that. I don’t know what he was trying to accomplish with that pageboy bowl cut thing he had going on for so long. And Historia…” He stares in awe at the large portrait of the Last Queen of the Walls. “I completely underestimated her when we first met, but she proved to be stronger than just about everyone else I knew.”

“History calls you all the ‘Fallen Heroes,’” you say.

“Fallen? But we survived…”

“The name has more to do with the tragedies you all faced. You were heroes because you fell and rose back up again. Or something like that,” you explain.

“Hm, I kinda like that,” Eren replies. He dives back into looking at all the faces on display. “Ha, there’s Levi, of course. Smug bastard. Don’t tell him I said this, but he always came off as kind of vain to me. Too big for his britches. But he is a great colonel, and I respect him completely. Just… he’s a fancy-pants.” He snickers. “And this painting sums him up perfectly.” He points to a glistening portrait ringed by the gaudiest gilded frame you’ve ever seen. The artist had taken the liberty of switching out Levi’s Survey Corps uniform for a Napoleonic tailcoat and feathered hat. He even has a robust moustache. 

You giggle. “That’s one of my favorites too.”

Eren gazes at the exhibit a while more. You can’t help but notice that out of all the Fallen Heroes, all Eren’s fellow comrades, he completely fails to mention one: Mikasa. You’d have thought he’d be elated to see her face again, even more so than all the others. After all, you knew they had grown up together almost as brother and sister. She was his closest friend, apart from maybe Armin. Yet his eyes skipped over every painting with her in it. And there were plenty. Based on your research, she was humanity’s single greatest asset after Levi and Eren themselves.

But you don’t ask him. He’s been sore enough already, lately.

“What on earth are you children doing?” an all-too-familiar voice screeches behind you.

You and Eren whirl around to come face to face with Ms. Petunia Finkelstein. How did you not hear those heels coming?!

“We’re walking through this exhibit, like normal people,” you snap.

“I find that hard to believe,” Ms. Finkelstein says, adjusting her glasses and flipping through papers on her clipboard. “What kind of normal people spend a perfectly gorgeous afternoon cooped up in a stuffy old museum? It’s a waste of your youth, if you ask me.”

“I can spend my time however the hell I want,” you grit. “And why’d you come here? We didn’t send for you, and the annual checkup isn’t until August.”

“Yes, I am well aware of that fact, thank you. I am here for a different reason entirely.” Ms. Finkelstein continues flipping through her clipboard stack until she finds what she is looking for. She yanks out the sheet and hands it to you. “Here you are.”

You take the page. You and Eren look at it. Your eyes grow wide with indignant shock. “What the hell is this?!”

“Must I spell everything out for you? Director Periwinkle has finally passed on his title to me, which if you ask me is several years overdue. Now that I am in charge, I have put up your completely profitless hovel up for auction. That is the flyer I will have distributed all across your sad little shantytown.” She shakes her head. “It really was a mistake not to charge people to visit, back when there still were visitors.”

“You can’t… you aren’t allowed to…” you stammer angrily. You can feel the blistering tears already starting to drip.

“I am very much allowed, I assure you,” Ms. Finkelstein says. “You and your boyfriend have a nice day now. I’m off to find other ways to cut down on my museum’s horrendous overhead.”

She clicks off on her high heels of hell.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Eren demands, staring at the sheet of paper in your hands. “What does that mean?”

You wipe away the rivers trickling down your cheeks. “It means this museum has less than two weeks to live.”

 

The two of you head back to your apartment in dismal silence. Despite just showing Eren one of your most treasured places in the world, the two of you had nothing to talk about. Ms. Petunia Finkelstein has sapped all the wonder from you. Even the taxi driver, Ed, knows not to try and make conversation.

At the apartment complex, you tiptoe past Mrs. Lavender’s apartment suite without incident – a much-needed relief. As if you could use another problem to turn grey over. 

When you creak open your apartment door, you call for Levi, but get no response.

“I guess he’s still out with Marigold. The two of them must be having a nice time,” you comment tiredly.

“Yeah…” Eren says, equally glum.

“Hey, I promised you that coffee ice cream, didn’t I? Wait here. I’ll scoop us each a bowl.” You leave Eren on the sofa as you dash over to your dinky freezer and pull out the cardboard quart. You take out two cereal bowls – your only two cereal bowls – and pile on the ice cream. According to Marigold, ice cream was a great way to cope with depression. Now was as good a time as any to test out her advice.

“Here you go,” plopping next to Eren and handing him a bowl. “If you want, I might have a little chocolate syrup in the fridge.”

“Nawh, that’s okay,” Eren says, scooping out a massive bite. He shivers. “Whoa…I guess I still need to be careful when I eat this stuff.” 

You laugh, grabbing the remote and flipping through the channels. As usual, it’s all trash, but at least it takes your mind off your troubles. “Hey, I know,” you say with a bolt of inspiration. “Let’s watch one of my all-time favorites.”

You hop off the sofa and head over to the cabinet where you keep your considerable stash of movies. You pull out a well-worn DVD sleeve with a collage of characters printed on the front. Two of them are dressed in suits, wearing smart hipster glasses and holding handguns. Another can only be described as the most colorful megalomaniac in all of filmmaking history. The title printed above them reads: ‘Kingsman: The Secret Service.’

“Yet another little something that used to remind me of you and Levi, back before I knew you,” you say to Eren, placing the DVD into the player’s waiting tray.

“And now that you know us, it doesn’t?” Eren asks.

“No, it still does. The main character initially comes off as an arrogant douchebag, just like you.”

“Thanks.”

“But he has a good heart, also like you. I hope you like it.”

“What’s it about?”

“It’s a spy movie, but a spoof on spy movies at the same time.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to wait and see then, since I have no idea what a ‘spy movie’ even is.”

You crack a smile and resume your place next to him. You pick up the DVD player’s remote and press ‘Play.’ “Yeah, I guess you will.”

\---

Levi doesn’t return home until much later, when the movie has long since been over. You’re snuggled in your bed, too tired and lazy to get up and ask him why he was gone the whole day. You listen as he creaks open the cot you bought him and lays it parallel to Eren’s makeshift sofa bed. Faintly, you can hear his deep voice as well.

“Eren? Are you awake?”

“’Course I’m awake, Colonel. I haven’t been able to sleep well since we woke up from our twelve hundred year nap.”

“Well, you do have the sofa. I’m stuck with this cot.”

“Shut up! I asked you if you wanted the sofa, and you said no. So it’s mine now. No take backs.” You hear rustling as Eren sits up. “And by the way, where the hell were you? You were gone all day. ___ was worried.”

“I was with Marigold. We went up to the top of Heather’s Cliffs together and had ice cream, and then she had some shopping to do that I agreed to help her with. I didn’t mean to worry ___. I thought I told her yesterday what I planned. I will apologize to her tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I thought you were with Marigold again,” Eren says, a touch resentfully. You hear him plop back onto his sofa. “Tell me something, Colonel. Is it really her? Does she remember who you are?”

Levi pauses a moment. “I can’t say for certain, Eren. But she has told me that sometimes, when I’m around her, she gets a strange feeling that she has met me before, even though we both know that can’t be true. Not in this life, anyway.”

“And she certainly looks like Petra,” Eren says bitterly.

“Yes, there is that. But either way, I think… I think she is good for me. I’ve actually smiled once or twice when I was with her.”

“Now that’s an accomplishment. She must be pretty amazing, right up there with sales on cleaning supplies.”

“Yes… she is amazing… and yet at the same time, I can’t help but wonder if it’s right to be with her.”

“Is it the colossal age difference?”

“It isn’t that bad… physically, we’re less than ten years apart. That’s normal.”

“Oh, so you’re already thinking about the physical side of things.”

You hear a loud bang. Levi must’ve punched Eren into the wall.

“Sorry, don’t mind me,” Eren says with a wince in his voice. “Only jealous teasing.”

“Well whatever it was, it’s time we went to sleep. Also, I have been meaning to ask you… do you think we’ve stayed past our welcome at ___’s residence? We have been here for at least a month now. Perhaps it’s time we started looking for a more permanent place for ourselves.”

“Yeah…” Eren says hollowly. “That’s a good point. I guess I just can’t wrap my mind around the fact that we’re stuck here, whether we like it or not… Oh, speaking of the distant past, ___ showed me around the museum today.”

“Did she? Was there anything interesting?”

“Oh yeah. Tons of paintings and stuff of you, me, and the other members of Squad Levi. Plus there was even some working 3D maneuver gear I’d love to test out…”

“That certainly sounds intriguing.”

“Yeah…” Eren sighs. “But it reminded me of some things, a bunch of crap I wish I could forget… you’re right. We can’t stay here forever. It’s time we find a new place. How about we talk more in the morning about that?”

“That would be nice. Good night, Eren.” 

“…good night, Levi.”

\---

Early the next morning Eren places a note on your nightstand and walks out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kingsman is a fantabulous movie and I highly recommend everyone (over the age of thirteen or so) to watch it.


	4. Something Certain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren tells the reader the true reason why he and Levi took a break from time. Expect heather, tigerlilies, petunias, and something certain.

You stare at the scrap of paper in your hands, turning it over and barely feeling it. The words on it don’t even seem real to you. How could they be real? How could fate deal you yet another stack of bad news like this? You had already known life was cruel and unfair, but this? This was one step too many.

“Where could he have gone?” you whisper to yourself.

And yet, at the same time, you had seen this coming. Eren had been acting strange for a while now, restless, almost like he was struggling to break from invisible ropes. You couldn’t have expected him to stay with you forever. Sooner or later he was going to have to find his own place in this world. But you had thought Levi would be the first to go, now that he and Marigold had completely fallen for each other.

“What is it?” a familiar low voice asks. 

You look up from your empty staring to see Levi poking his head through your bedroom doorframe, a surprisingly concerned expression on his face.

“Do you know where Eren is?” you ask him.

Levi thinks for a moment. “No… has he gone to do some errands?”

You hold up the note. “I was hoping you would know. All I have is this crummy little piece of paper.”

Levi takes the scrap from you and skims over it. “It really isn’t that specific.”

“No, it isn’t. All I can get out of it is that he isn’t coming back any time soon.”

“Yes…”

“Have you noticed how weird he’s been acting? Weirder than normal, I mean.”

“Yes I have,” Levi replies. “But last night I didn’t get the impression he planned to run away like this. He wanted to discuss finding a new living arrangement for the two of us.” He sits down beside you. “I don’t think we need to worry, though. For as long as I’ve known him, Eren has had a tendency to act impulsively. As soon as the brat comes to his senses, he’ll return.”

“I’m not so sure… I think I need to go and find him.”

“Well in that case… let me show you something.” Levi takes the note from you and grabs a pen from your nightstand. “Eren is actually a bit cleverer than he looks. Or maybe it’s a subconscious thing. Either way, I think he’d like you to find him, too.” He circles the first letter of each line.

“C…L…I…F…F…S,” you spell out. “Heather’s Cliffs!”

You bolt off of your bed and fling on a hoodie, attempting to pull yourself into a pair of pants at the same time. When that doesn’t work out, you simply toss them to the floor and decide to stick with your pajama bottoms. You throw on a pair of Converse for good measure and race out of the front door, taking nothing but the key to your bike lock.

“I’ll be here when you get back,” Levi calls after you. 

\---

You pedal as fast as your leg muscles will allow without popping free of their ligaments. All the while, a million terrible scenarios race through your mind, the most prominent being: what if Eren decides to do what Princess Heather did all those years ago? What if he jumps? You would never forgive him, or yourself, because you feel it’s your fault you didn’t try and do something about his distress sooner.

Pedaling up the bike path along the side of the cliff is the worst. Your lungs are on fire. Sweat is soaking through your hoodie. Thank goodness the morning sky is overcast. Things would be a whole lot uglier if you were doing this beneath a blazing sun.

But none of that matters. The only thing that does right now is reaching Eren in time. And you might already be too late. After all, you have no idea how long it’s been since he left that note.

When you reach the top, you fling your bike to the ground, not even bothering to lock it. Who cares if someone steals it? You can buy a new one. But you can’t buy a new Eren.

You dart around the park like a feral cat, scanning for any sign of a tall young man with tousled brown hair. At last you see him, standing right up against the guardrail at the far end of the park. 

You run like hell.

“Eren!” you call out. “Eren! What the hell?! Don’t you dare!”

He looks back at you with a vacant expression. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to do that. I hate myself too much.”

You come to a stop, hands on your knees, huffing for oxygen. You notice Eren’s hands are covered in bloody bite marks. He must have been trying to transform.

“Remember when I made you promise not to tell me what happened to Mikasa?” Eren asks softly.

You are taken aback by the lake of tremor in his words. His eyes are shaking, ever so slightly, but his lips move firmly. You don’t know how to respond to the incongruity.

“Well, I think I’ve changed my mind,” Eren says, the dance of bitter laughter lilting at the end of his statement. The blood from his hands drips among the tigerlilies clinging to the cliff’s edge. The red liquid coincides with the fiery flower tongues.

“Are you sure?” you ask, before you can help it.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m sure. After what happened with Levi… you never know. I could get lucky too. I don’t know. Maybe it’s stupid. Yeah, it’s definitely stupid, but I want to know regardless… and I think I already know the answer,” he adds quietly.

Again, you’re at a loss for what to say. You aren’t even entirely certain what he’s talking about. You take a moment to let him collect himself and make absolutely sure. He’s in rough shape, those bite marks are going to need stitches before too long, but you eventually decide his ears are working perfectly find, and he needs to hear this. It’s important, both to him and to you. “According to the old stories… though it really can’t be confirmed, because all the record-keeping was so hectic back then…” you babble evasively.

“Yeah…?”

“Mikasa Ackerman was promoted to the rank of lieutenant colonel shortly after your disappearance, and continued serving in the military for most of her life. She led countless titan cleanup operations and helped establish many colonies for the people who dared to live beyond the walls. And…”

“What?”

“And… at the age of twenty-five, she married Jean Kirschstein. They had five children.”

Eren turns away, gazing into the greyness of the ocean below. For a terrible moment, you’re afraid he might jump again. But he already promised he wouldn’t, and you know him better than that. All you can hear is the crashing of the waves.

“That makes sense,” he says finally. “Jean always had a huge crush on her…even though it was pretty obvious to everyone else that Marco had a crush on him. He probably treated her right. Respected her. He certainly got on my case enough about it.”

“They…” You hesitate, not quite sure you should reveal this next bit. “They named their firstborn son Eren.”

Eren looks blank at first, the way he so often does when he’s processing new information, especially such completely unexpected information. Then his face crinkles into a smile, a sincere smile that reaches his eyes, makes them bright again. “Ha, wow. Guess the damn horseface didn’t hate me so much after all. Either that or Mika bullied him into it.”

You smile back, relieved that he took the news so well, at least on the surface. “They named their second son Jean. And from what I’ve heard, they didn’t get along so well.”

Eren laughs at this. “That’s hilarious. Aw man, I wish I could have met them…”

The air turns somber again. You become acutely aware of the dull shade of grey in the sky. “Why did you come out here, Eren?”

“I thought I left you a note.”

“Yeah, I read that. How else would I have found my way up here? But it wasn’t really that specific about anything. So, I’ll ask you again: what are you doing?”

“I came up here to… figure some things out. And since you’ve told me what I needed to hear, it’s time for me to repay the favor.”

“Huh?”

“I need to tell you something. Why I’ve been so moody lately. I’ve kept it a secret from Levi, because I just don’t feel right about telling him yet. It’s my fault, and I knew someday I’d have to own up to it, but I just thought maybe I could have a few years to cool down, let him get used to this new world. But now that he’s found Petra… or Marigold or whatever… things are different. I don’t need to hide it anymore. So here goes. But once I finish telling you, you need to promise to let me go. I can’t stick around here forever.”

“Sorry, can’t promise you that. I don’t trust you well enough yet.”

Eren looks irked, but sighs and carries on. “Fine. Whatever. I need to get this out. See, you know how we said the last thing we remember is setting out for the titan cleanup operation? And I said I couldn’t remember anything past that, just like Levi? Well, that isn’t quite true. I remember everything past that. I’m the reason we’re stuck here.”

You look at him questioningly but don’t interrupt.

“I set out on that mission knowing it was going to be my last. A few months before, I had been experimenting with Commander Zoe, testing different applications for my hardening ability. Eventually we figured out I could harden my actual body, just like my titan form. For once, Commander Zoe was kinda frightened. She told me not to push it any farther, said it was too dangerous. I could end up permanently petrified. She went on and on. I agreed not to mess with it. I kept my promise for a while, but then…”

He kneels down among the tigerlilies, absently stroking the petals of one. “It was a fresh summer day, like this one. I found some flowers that looked identical to these, and I picked them, a whole big bunch. I stuck a ring…” He coughs to hide the fact that he’s crying. “I stuck a ring made of metal melted down from one of my blades onto the stems of one of the flowers… I had Armin and Moblit help me design it. It was all twisted and intricate. I was pretty proud of it… But anyway, it was in the flowers, and that day, I gave it to Mikasa.”

There is no hope of hiding his tears now, but his expression is not sorrowful, but defiant, fighting to press on with the story. He needs to get this out before it burns him.

“I gave the flowers to Mikasa and asked her to marry me, but she turned me down.”

You inhale sharply in disbelief. You immediately regret it, but it couldn’t be helped. “But she loved you! All the stories go on and on about how much she loved and protected you.”

Eren smiles through obvious agony. “Yeah, she did. But that was the problem, apparently. She didn’t think I loved her the same way. She told me she wasn’t meant for me, that I was only asking her to marry me because that’s what I thought she wanted.” He rips a petal off one of the lilies. “She could be so dumb sometimes. And stubborn. Maybe that’s why I finally realized I was in love with her. I could relate to that pigheadedness.

“So, after that, she tried to avoid me. Give me some space or whatever. I hated the pained look she gave me every time our eyes accidently met. I needed to find a way to stop her suffering, and since I was so incredibly dumb, I figured the only way was to get myself out of her life completely. Like I so often do, I acted on impulse, and volunteered for the next titan cleanup operation and insisted I undertake it by myself.

“See, to me, suicide is cowardly. It’s the easy way out. So it was never an option. I looked for an alternate route, something more punishing. That’s when I remembered my new ability, hardening my actual body… I planned to head out as far as I could and then stop and turn myself to stone. I wanted to erase myself from history completely.

“But then Levi came out of nowhere and saw what I was trying to do. He tried to stop me, and I must have ended up petrifying him along with me.” His knees hit the soil and he buries his face in his hands. “I still have no idea what he was doing there. I thought I was alone out there. At least he doesn’t remember it. He’d hate me if he did.”

“You dumbass…” you say, kneeling next to him. “He wouldn’t hate you. You two have been through so much worse together. And just think: if it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t have found Petra again. He probably would’ve lived the rest of his life alone.”

“Like I deserve to.”

“Don’t you dare resign yourself to that,” you say, leaning in closer. “And why were you biting yourself just now? Were you trying to turn into a titan?”

“Sort of. I wanted to petrify myself again. I never planned to wake up. But I guess I lost my powers somewhere in those twelve hundred years.”

You pick a tigerlily and turn it over in your hands. “Well, before you do that, I have one more story to share. Maybe you’ll reconsider once you hear it.”

Eren doesn’t look up. He has waded too deep in the past.

You continue regardless. “There’s a reason why such a small town this far from your native Alemanni has a museum dedicated to the Dark Times. It’s because we were one of the original colonies that Mikasa helped establish.”

Eren shows no sign of hearing you, but you know he can.

“Many of the people inside the walls were desperate to see the ocean, so they came here to visit, and soon fell in love. In fact, Mikasa did, too. According to legend, this is where she died. Most of the locals can trace their lineage all the way back to the original pioneers, including me.”

You place the vibrant orange flower next to Eren’s knee. “I never knew her name carried so much significance until you told me your story… you see, my ancestor’s name was Lily, and she was Jean and Mikasa’s eldest daughter.”

Eren finally looks up at you, and the way he does makes it seem as if he is seeing you for the first time. “You’re Mikasa’s… descendant?”

“Yeah, that’s one reason why I’ve always been obsessed with the Dark Times, and the reason why I can’t let my museum die. It’s my heritage.”

Eren picks up your tigerlily. “Mikasa named her daughter after the flowers I tried to give her…”

“Pretty amazing, huh? She must’ve really loved you, you know. The two of you just weren’t in the cards.”

“No… I guess not… I still can’t believe how stupid I was, though, trying to lock myself away from history.”

“But if it weren’t for that, I would never have met you, so… this might sound weird, but thank you, Eren. Thank you for being such a dumbass.”

He smiles weakly and tucks the flower into your hair. “That looks good on you.”

“Thanks.” You turn away to hide your blush. “And now that we’ve got all our secrets out, would you mind heading back to the apartment with me? I think it’s time you told Levi the truth, too.”

“Actually, can we just sit here for a few more minutes? It’s… kinda nice out here. Even under this overcast.”

“Alright. Fine by me,” you reply, nestling yourself among the flowers. “As long as you don’t have any more shocking secrets to reveal.”

“Nope, I think I just about covered it.”

“Good.”

\---

“So, as I understand it, the museum we woke up in is closing in two weeks, unless you can come up with a way to make it… more profitable?”

Levi leans against your living room wall with his arms crossed, looking incredulous. You and Eren had been home for a few hours now, and after you and Eren finished telling your stories, you had proceeded to explain the cause of the rest of your worries: the rapidly approaching end of your dear museum. “Why would they do such a thing? History is valuable. And it’s important to remember the mistakes we made during the Dark Times, otherwise humanity has gained nothing from its sacrifices.”

“I know that, and I know you two certainly know that, but the fact is, the Dark Times happened a long time ago,” you explain. “People just aren’t interested in it. There are cooler, flashier attractions, like theme parks and laser tag.”

“That’s awful,” Eren says.

“Well, that’s the way it is. I actually can’t even remember the last time the NAMDA had a lot of patrons.”

“So what will you do?” Levi asks.

“I don’t know… enjoy it while I can, I guess,” you sigh.

“No,” Eren says. “Remember how you told me not to resign myself? Well, don’t write your museum off yet. We’ll figure something out.”

You grin at him. “Someone’s brightened up all of a sudden.”

“Thanks to you. And now I owe you.”

“Aw, that’s very sweet of you. But do you happen to have any bright ideas to match that luminous grin of yours?”

“As a matter of fact,” Eren says. “I do. You told me that 3D maneuver gear at the museum is still functional, right?”

“Yeah, as far as anyone can tell… it’s not like people have needed to use it any time within the last millennium.”

“Well, I was thinking… what if Levi and I took a crack at it?”

“What?”

\---

-Almost Two Weeks Later-

The sky is open, and the air is clear, perfect weather for an evening show. A few clouds drift lazily among the fresh blue, but none seem threatening to transform into storms any time soon. You breathe out an easy sigh, scanning the surrounding crowd below. You’ve never seen one in Grenoble this large before. It blocks off the entire street, and the police cars stopping traffic at the ends hardly seem necessary. It has to be your biggest show yet.

“Are you two just about ready?” you turn and ask Eren and Levi.

“Of course I’m ready,” Eren snaps. “I’ve done this a million times.”

“Careful now. Can’t have you falling to your death before the big show,” Levi says, dragging Eren away from the edge by his ears. Some things never change.

“Ow, Colonel… ow ow ow... is that really ne-

“Anyone hungry?” a female voice calls from behind.

The three of you spin around to see Marigold emerging from the stairwell and armed with a tray of peanut butter cookies.

“Yes please!” Eren says, breaking free from Levi and practically toppling the poor woman over as he lunges for the treats. As Eren dissolves into a dust storm of peanut butter crumbs, Levi approaches with caution and gingerly takes a single cookie.

Marigold laughs, light and airy. “I’m still holding you out on your promise, Levi,” she says. “You told me you’d eventually teach me how to use that gear of yours.”

“Yes, I remember…” Levi says. “But it is very dangerous.”

“Yeah yeah, you told me that already,” Marigold says, winking.

You cannot help but be struck once again by the uncanny resemblance your friend shares with the legendary heroine, Petra Ral. Of course, you had never actually known Petra, but judging from the accounts you had read, she too was a stubborn and daring woman.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” you say.

Marigold helps Levi and Eren check to make sure all their straps are tight and in place. You lean over the edge of the building and give the crowd a final once-over. “Let’s make this a good one,” you say to your friends.

You grab a megaphone and climb to the top of a pedestal set close to the edge of the rooftop. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this evening’s Northeast Aquitaine Museum of the Dark Times Living History exhibition! Before we begin, I would like to take this time to remind you that though our stuntmen are trained professionals, it is still very important that you keep in mind the following safety regulations: 1) Keep your hands to yourself. Do not attempt to high-five our soldiers as they pass. 2) Do not throw anything at our soldiers. Odds are they will find a way to get you back. 3) Always keep your eyes on the soldiers. We wouldn’t want them knocking a hoe in someone’s perfect 80s-style ‘do. 4) Cameras and video cameras are fine, but turn off your flash. The light is distracting to our soldiers, as they come from an era where photography didn’t exist yet. 5) Keep small children away from any rooftops or windows without screens. That goes without saying, but… just making sure. That’s it. Only five rules. Easy to remember, right? Now are you ready to meet the members of the legendary Survey Corps!?”

The crowd roars in the positive. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Eren and Levi take their places at the lip of the rooftop, all suited up in their 3D maneuver gear. The crowd’s volume rises to a fevered pitch. You beam. You never thought you’d see the day when people got this excited over history.

You raise your arm to give Eren and Levi the signal to start their performance. They crouch, ready to spring from their perches.

“Alright. Party’s over. Everyone must clear out this instant!”

You whirl around to see Ms. Petunia Finkelstein, one hand holding her own megaphone and the other clutching that omnipresent clipboard of hers. As soon as she reaches your pedestal, she shoves you off and climbs up it herself, clearly struggling to do so in her mountainous heels. “You are attending an event sponsored by an entity that no longer exists. Leave now and you will receive a total refund!”

“Are you kidding me?!” you scream at her. You wanted to say worse, but you knew there were small children in the audience. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Ms. Finkelstein pauses from shouting into her megaphone to respond to you. “I simply came to claim what is rightfully mine. Since you have failed to provide me with sufficient reason to keep it open, that little hovel you call a museum will be going up for auction tomorrow morning.”

“Once again: are you kidding me?! Look at all these people! They all paid to see the show! What better reason do you need?!”

The crowd has died down a bit, and the faces that swim in it look puzzled, confused. A few people glance at each other, deliberating whether or not to escape this bizarre turn of events while they still have the chance. Your heart goes out to them, begging them to stay.

“One single freak show will not be enough to pay off the debts your shanty has racked up,” Ms. Finkelstein sneers.

“But this isn’t the only one. People have been coming from all around for almost two weeks now,” you protest. “We’ve made more than enough to pay it off!”

Ms. Finkelstein looks as if you have just insulted her grandmother. “Well, too bad,” she leers, her phony Oxford accent slipping. “Because I am the one running things now, and my word is law.” 

You glare at the high-heeled monster as she raises the megaphone to her lips and resumes her shouting. She’s beyond listening to reason, you realize. There’s no stopping her now.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for wasting your evening, but please clear off the streets immediately! All ticket fares will be refunded, and you will receive a personal apology in the mail sometime in the next we- AAAAAHHHK!!”

Something fast and hard slams into Ms. Finkelstein, tipping her off the pedestal and sending her sprawling across the rooftop. The crowd gasps. The thing yanks the megaphone from the troublesome woman’s grip and puts it up to its own mouth.

“Sorry, everyone. Didn’t mean to startle you,” Eren says. “Just had to take care of an undercover titan shifter.”

The audience blinks, and then bursts into deafening applause. You have to laugh as Marigold pokes Ms. Finkelstein. The witch is out cold.

“Alright, now let’s get this thing started!” you shout into megaphone.

“I second that,” Eren says, dropping his megaphone and leaping off the rooftop. Levi swiftly follows, firing his lines at the building across the street, and the two of them go sailing over teems of awestruck faces. Despite your warning, a few members of the crowd manage to land high-fives as they fly past.

You watch as Eren and Levi glide through the air. Modern day military has nothing on them. You’re quite certain if Aquitaine had a brigade of guys like this, it’d be unstoppable.

The crowd continues to cheer. 

You wish you could freeze this moment in a picture frame and keep it with you forever: the evening sky with its multicolored tiger stripes, the smile on Marigold’s face, the energy radiating from the congested street below, but most of all, the beauty of the two ancient heroes as they dance on thin air, just as they did over twelve centuries ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you go. An odd little Attack on Titan story. Hope you liked it. Please let me know what you think, and whether or not I should write the epilogue I have in my head ^_^


	5. Once More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four years later, Eren and Levi have learned to love their new lives, though not without a few bumps along the way. Once more, they find themselves at the top of a cliff.

Four years later, you’re at a party. Not yours, but that’s just fine. You aren’t a fan of being the center of attention. The guest of honor is seated, smiling and giggling, in a high chair at the head of the lengthy dining table, between her beaming parents. Well, her mother is beaming. Her father isn’t really the smiley type, but you can still see the radiant pride in his eyes.

It’s Lily Ackerman’s first birthday party.

Marigold had decided to celebrate atop Heather’s Cliffs, the sight of so many memories for the family. After she had finished grad school, she and Levi had come here almost every day, eating ice cream and enjoying one another’s company. And one day, Levi finally asked her to marry him.

“Wow. Could there be any more lace?”

You are snapped from your romantic reverie by Eren’s snide comment.

“Shush. Marigold might hear you,” you scold.

He rolls his celadon eyes. “Come on. You know you’re thinking it, too.”

He has a point. Marigold did go a bit overboard on the Pinterest DIYs, but you can understand why. For your own first birthday party, your mother had baked a professional bakery grade Mickey Mouse-shaped cake. Plus, you can’t give Eren the satisfaction of agreeing with him. He doesn’t need any more encouragement.

“And look at Levi,” Eren continues. “He looks hashtag so done.”

You smirk at Eren’s attempt at modern vernacular. Sometimes you forget about the twelve centuries he spent as a statue. But his odd little mannerisms are always quick to remind you. And entertain you.

“Lace overload aside, this really is a lovely party,” you say, looking around in admiration at the decorations. Levi and Marigold decided to have the party at night, with all the stars shining. According to Marigold, it was Lily’s favorite time, as the wily little girl rarely went to bed when she was supposed to. The dining table is sheltered by a wide wooden trellis strung with ting white rose-shaped lights and glowing Chinese lanterns. The walkway leading up to the site is guarded by two glittering miniature wire models of the Eiffel Tower. You still remember the incredulous look on Levi’s face when Marigold bought them. With him working as a paramedic-in-training and Marigold as a novice attorney, he didn’t think they could afford such “frivolousness,” as he had put it. Basically, modern-day Levi has become a bit of a cheapskate. Except of course, when it comes to cleaning supplies.

Levi had also been careful to specify in the invitations that this would be an alcohol-free party, partly because of the close proximity of the sudden 200-foot drop and party because the man is not a huge fan of the depressant and what it does to people. He wants to set an example for his daughter early on.

“He’s such a killjoy.”

You look at Eren suddenly, who’s watching Levi. “What do you mean? He looks like he’s actually having fun for once.” Sure, he has yet to crack a smile, but his eyes are filled with nothing but love and adoration for his little princess. And she is definitely a princess tonight. Resting atop her strawberry curls is a sparkling tiara, another little detail her father had insisted upon. He even had it custom made so it would fit her head without poking and pinching.

“Heh, sure, but he told me earlier he hoped the party wouldn’t run too late. Grouchy old man needs his beauty sleep, apparently.”

“Actually, don’t the two of you have a show tomorrow?” you point out. “He probably wants to be well-rested for that.”

“What are you talking about? We’re soldiers. We’re trained to operate 3D Maneuver Gear for up to three days without sleep.”

“You were soldiers,” you correct. “You’re basically living the civilian life now. And civilians have regular bed times. In fact, I wouldn’t mind getting to bed on time tonight myself. I’ve still got a lot of paperwork to sift my way through, now that I’m head curator at the NAMDA.”

“Oh right. I forgot you’re the head honcho now, after they finally sacked Ms. Fancy-Britches.”

Again, you can’t help but crack a smile at his choice of words. “I know, right. Took them long enough to realize all her budget cutting policies were cutting down on the visitor count as well.”

“And now the NAMDA is more popular than ever.”

“Yeah, no small thanks to your and Levi’s little performances.”

“Hm.”

You catch a look in Eren’s eyes that you haven’t seen for a while. A look of longing. For what, you aren’t sure. For his past? For all the friends he left behind? For the future he lost? For Mikasa? You can’t say. You only wish you had the right words.

It had taken a while for Eren to settle down and find his niche. Levi had discovered his almost immediately. He mentioned to Marigold on one of their strolls one day that he wanted a job where he could make use of his talent for staying cool under pressure, so she introduced him to a friend of hers who worked as an emergency medical technician. That friend set him up in a program that would pay for the necessary schooling and guarantee him a job once he finished, and voila. Eren, on the other hand, spent a few months hopping from job to job, from barista to sales clerk to landscaper. Eventually, after some tutoring, you managed to convince him to apply to college. He hated it at first, but once he found the subjects that interested him, he was fine. Now he’s majoring in photojournalism and working at a local records shop on the side. He loves it, and you couldn’t be more proud, but sometimes you worry there are pieces of him that still need finding.

Your heavy thoughts melt at the sound of Levi clanking his fork against his glass. He stands, glass in hand. The din of the guests’ chatter gradually fades, and all heads turn to him. “Ahem. Yes. Well,” he starts, a slight glint of stage fright present on his face. Marigold gives him a nod of encouragement, and Lily giggles at just the right moment to light a smile across her father’s lips. “I would like to make a toast… to my daughter Lily. However, I am not the best with words, so I think I will leave the task to her godparents, Eren Jaeger and ___ ___.”

The guests titter with light laughter at Levi’s unintentional humor, and your and Eren’s faces flush red as poppies. He could have at least given you a warning. Eren shoots up a little too quickly, banging his legs against the table and causing a slight earthquake among the tablewear. You do your best to rise more gracefully, but the shaky hand clutching your glass betrays you, and a bit of punch splooshes onto the lacey white tablecloth. You catch Marigold’s eyes widening a fraction at the new stain and make your silent apologies to her.

“So, Lily is just about the sweetest little kid I know,” Eren starts, still blushing like a wildfire and blinking a bit too frequently, a nervous tic of his. “So, I’m really glad her first year in this world was almost as sweet as her, and I hope her next year is, too.”

“Aww…” the audience collectively sighs as they give him a light ovation. Lily gurgles happily, attempting to clap along with her chubby little hands. Eren gives her a tiny wave.

Now it’s your turn. You gulp, summoning your courage and reminding yourself this is for your darling goddaughter. You exhale, ready to speak from your heart. “Lily is… a precious little flower. That’s pretty obvious to everyone here tonight, I’m sure. But to me, she’s also something more. See, Levi and Marigold gave me a pretty unexpected and wonderful gift when they named their daughter. They named her after one of my ancestors, Lily Kirschstein, daughter of Jean and Mikasa Kirschstein, two of the greatest Fallen Heroes of the Dark Times. She was also one of the first Dark Times historians, recording all the adventures her mother and father recounted for her.” 

You glance around skittishly to make sure your audience is still awake. To your surprise, they’re not only awake but staring up at you with rapt curiosity. You had known public interest in the Dark Times was on the rise – the recent success of your museum was proof of that – but this is still a nice surprise. Even Lily has stopped giggling. So you continue, still wanting to keep it short. “All my life she has been my inspiration, and it was because of her I chose the career I did. And now I’m proud to say what was once our small local museum has become one of the most famous attractions in northeastern Aquitaine.” The guests applaud, some even whistle. “I’m sure Lily Kirschstein is looking down upon this blessing with no small amount of satisfaction. But all history nerd stuff aside, I’m sure our dear little birthday princess will grow up to be every bit as awesome as her namesake, if not more so, and I love her to pieces. She is the cutest little cinnamon roll on earth. Happy birthday, Lily!”

You raise your glass as the rest of the guests do the same, and the air is shattered with the chimes of crystal. Marigold mouths ‘Thank you’ at you from across the crowd, and even from this distance you can see the proud, happy tears trickling down her face. You smile back at her and the rest of the happy little family, and you notice that Levi is once again gracing the guests with one of his precious smiles. Lily squeals giddily as he leans down and gives her a light kiss on the check.

“Alright, everyone. Who’s ready for cake?” Marigold asks, dabbing her eyes before someone else catches her tears.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it, Eren?” you ask, turning to check if he was still blushing, only to find his seat vacant. “Eren?” You look around under the starry trellis, thinking he might have wandered off to get more punch. Or maybe he just went to the bathroom. You sigh and sit back down, trying not to think too much about it. You aren’t his mother and he has spent enough time in the modern world to know how to handle himself.

Marigold brings out the cake, a white, lacey (surprise, surprise) multilayer with just enough girlish charm to avoid looking like a wedding cake. A Pinterest recipe, no doubt. Lily blows out the candle (with a little help from her mommy and daddy) and everyone sings “Happy Birthday.” Slowly but surely, the cake slices are doled out, but you barely notice when yours finally arrives in front of you. Eren has not returned. Your hyperactive nerves have been activated.

As if her newfound motherly instincts gave her insight into your distress, Marigold excuses herself from one of her aunts arrives at your side. “What’s wrong? Do you prefer vanilla cake? Because I made an extra just in case.”

You smile at Marigold’s over-preparedness. “No, I love any cake, especially that beautiful work of art of yours. I’m just wondering where Eren is. He disappeared sometime after we gave our toasts, and he hasn’t been back since. It’s been fifteen minutes.”

“Hmm. That is troublesome,” Marigold says, furrowing her brows. You hate distressing her on her daughter’s special night.

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure her. “He’s probably just going to the bathroom or something. I’m sure he’s fine. I mean, he survived the Dark Times, right? The brambles and snares of modern society have nothing on the titans…” 

“Actually, it very well could, and that’s what I’m worried about,” Marigold says. “Oh, I knew it was a bad idea to have the party so late! Wait right here. I’ll go talk to Levi. He’ll know where we can find Eren.”

Before you have a chance to protest, Marigold dashes off to where Levi is talking with a friend from work, lightly bouncing Lily in his arms as he does. You feel awful for shattering the family’s peaceful bliss. With such high pressure jobs and a young baby to take care of, moments like this must be rare for them. When you find Eren, you are so going to wring his neck. That is, unless he’s in some sort of danger…

Marigold returns, her face in slightly less turmoil. “Levi says he saw Eren walk off in the direction of the cliffs while everyone was listening to your half of the toast. He says Eren may just have wanted a little space. A little air. You know he isn’t good in crowds.”

Even though you now know Eren’s whereabouts, you still can’t shake the concern from your heart. Obviously Levi isn’t that worried, or he would’ve followed the stubborn titan shifter, but you can’t help but remember the incident of four years ago, which happened on these same cliffs.

“Thank you so much, Marigold,” you say. “You should go back to your other guests now. I’m sure Eren’s fine.”

“I’m just glad we got that mystery sorted out. Man, that boy likes to keep us on our toes!” With a bright, reassuring smile, your friend walks back to the aunt she had excused herself from and resumes their conversation.

You sigh, scanning the party for someone to pass the time with. Unfortunately, just about everyone here is either a relative of Marigold’s or a friend from school or work. Though the two of you had been close while Marigold was studying for her law degree, you hadn’t had many mutual friends.

A few people come up to you and compliment your toast, but none of the conversations seem to last much beyond your hollow thanks.

“Oh, for crying out loud!” you exclaim to no one, slamming your punch on the lacey table. A few nearby guests eye you suspiciously, secretly wondering who had spiked the drink. Ignoring them, you stride off in the direction of Heather’s Cliffs. Like it or not, Eren is going to have to put up with you, because you are losing your mind over him.

o-o-o-o-o

You find him at the edge, just behind the guardrail, nestled among the dark shifting shadows of the landscaping. He is looking out across the water below, dimly lit by the half moon above and the distant party trellis behind. The sound of the crashing waves seems amplified by the darkness. He doesn’t hear you approach, or maybe he only pretends not to hear.

“What’s up?” you ask, demolishing his solitude. You know it’s a little rude, but you’re still miffed at him for making you worry so much.

He turns his head slightly. “Oh. Hi.”

“That’s all I get? Seriously? After you so unceremoniously sneak away from your own goddaughter’s birthday party in the middle of my amazing toast and leave me to assume the worst? Again?”

He flinches as the ugly memory resurfaces. “I’m sorry. It’s just… parties like that aren’t my kind of thing. Too many people, too much lace. And I hate the modern ‘Happy Birthday.’ I didn’t want to stick around to hear it. My eardrums would have bled.”

You smile wanly. Even when he’s testing your patience, this boy manages to make you grin. “I know it wasn’t that. You were doing fine for most of the night, and you were singing to Levi nonstop on his birthday.” Your smile drops. “You were thinking about the past again, weren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Eren admits.

The two of you stand in silence for a few minutes, nothing but the white roar of the distant waves between you. You study the silhouettes of the nearby tigerlilies, the flowers for which your ancestor and goddaughter were named. Somehow you can’t blame Eren for acting this way. The past seems unusually close tonight, like it did the night you and Papsi first cracked open the crates from Alemanni, the crates containing a certain pair of Fallen Heroes. But tonight has more flesh. You’re standing next to a living, breathing piece of history, and there’s something more.

Your smile returns, warmer, with the reflection of the faraway party lights in your eyes. And the moon and stars, always the stars. Without thinking, you reach out to the haunted boy and take his hand in yours. At first he is startled by your touch, but instead of flicking it angrily away, he lets it persist. Secretly you think he had been expecting it.

“Thanks,” you say. Just one simple word, heavy with meaning.

“For what?”

“For a lot. For waking up twelve hundred years past your time. For coming into my life. For saving my museum, my life, my dream. For just being you, because even beyond all the bedtime stories, war legends, and myths, I think you’re pretty great.”

A glint of his old mischievous fire returns to his green eyes. “Well, I can’t disagree with you there.”

You punch him lightly on the shoulder. “What happened to that act of self-depreciating mopiness you had going on?”

“What do you mean? You’re the one who got rid of it. Just like you always do. So…”

He takes your other hand and pulls you closer, and before you know it, your lips are locked. The kiss feels like an eternity all its own.

“I think I should be the one thanking you,” Eren says.

You smile at him, surprised and amused, a thousand and one emotions in your eyes. But before you can reply in kind…

“Took you brats long enough.”

The two of you whirl around to find Levi making his way up the path, Marigold right behind him, Lily in her arms.   
“Levi! That was rude,” Marigold scolds him. “We’re very sorry. We’ll give you two some privacy…” 

“No, it’s fine…” you laugh nervously, embarrassed. Eren rubs the back of his head, looking for something to look at. Even in the moonlight his ears are scarlet.

“Well, since we’ve already ruined the moment,” Marigold says, sending Levi a withering scowl. “All the guests have left. We were just coming to tell you the party’s over. Lily’s getting tired.” She holds the bleary baby to her cheek. 

You sigh, still blushing but deciding not to hide it anymore. With a surge of bold confidence, you grab Eren by the hand and drag him to the nearest bench. You plop him beside you and command him with your eyes to watch the stars. He obliges, not knowing what else to do, and Levi and Marigold soundlessly follow. Together the five of you stare up at the stars and listen to the waves, after a while forgetting what’s sky and what’s ocean.

And there you are, once more, on those cliffs, glad to have met the boy made of stone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there, my epilogue. Sorry it took a while. I didn't do much to edit it, so hopefully it's not complete crap ^_^ 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed my little story~

**Author's Note:**

> My first piece of Attack on Titan fan fiction! It's a peculiar one. I wrote it rather quickly, so I apologize for any screwy logistics. Also, since it is set in a universe not our own, the place names are fictional, and the fact that tigerlilies are growing outside of their natural habitat (North America and Southeastern Asia, mostly) is completely acceptable~


End file.
